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catscradle May. 19th, 2004 09:19 am)
catscradle May. 19th, 2004 09:19 am)So over last weekend I decided it was time to embrace the pain I feared and get that tattoo I've been thinking about for well over a year. I didn't know exactly what I wanted, but I had an idea. So I walked into Emporium, conveniently located right next to the best dive in Denver, the Lion's Lair, and made an appointment with a guy named Chad. Found the design I wanted rather quickly. Almost too quickly for something that's so personal, intimate and permanent. But if you don't go with your instincts, you're probably waiting too long to do anything. Yes. Do it. Or I never will.
Last night I went in and had my right leg altered about 4 inches above the ankle. "Are you scared?" Chad asked. A little. Yeah. "You should be. Expect the worst and then it won't be so bad." Just what I was thinking. So I sat down in the chair and he started all the preliminary stuff. He had me flex the foot so he could center the patterns right. Oddly enough, this was the worst part of the whole process, as it caused a cramp in my lower back. So, he flipped the back of the chair down and all was good and ready to go.
He did a test. "This is what it feels like," and he did a little stroke. Burned a little. Like carving on your skin with a razor. Superficial, not deep. Yeah, I could handle that. So he started. I think the worst of it was when he stopped and started again. It was a bit jarring. Keep the needle on the skin and there's a rythm you adjust to. He had his own rythm going with the country music he had blaring, which come to think of it was probably worse than the cramping for me. Not that it was unbearable, but I had the urge to laugh and a fear welled in me that uncontrolable laughter was a bad thing while scarring the skin with jet black ink. But what else is there to do but laugh with lyrics like "I overdosed in Denver, and I couldn't remember her name."
He also had a rather large collections of skulls and skelletons about his little office. Along with one of those jars claiming to be filled with the ashes of the last nasty customer. It was incredibly kitsch and I thought, Jesus, this is the Cracker Barrel of tattoo parlors! There was also a copy of Akira stitting on his desk and I wondered if the tape was there for those customers getting long detailed work. I'm not sure I'd want to watch Anime while getting a tattoo. Though I suppose if one is looking to achieve an altered state of consciousness without alcohol or drugs, mixing anime and tattooing might get you there.
In the end, I had a beautiful black, stylized swan permanently etched on my leg with the Japanese character for "love" scripted below the beak. I was aesthetically pleased by it.
Chad bandaged it up, told me I was no longer a tattoo virgin, and we were done.
I'd have to say, I would definitely do this again. The pain is marginal. If you can survive rug burn, you can survive this. I suppose in some way it's a right of passage. Not necessarily because of the pain involved, but for getting over the fear of pain.
Last night I went in and had my right leg altered about 4 inches above the ankle. "Are you scared?" Chad asked. A little. Yeah. "You should be. Expect the worst and then it won't be so bad." Just what I was thinking. So I sat down in the chair and he started all the preliminary stuff. He had me flex the foot so he could center the patterns right. Oddly enough, this was the worst part of the whole process, as it caused a cramp in my lower back. So, he flipped the back of the chair down and all was good and ready to go.
He did a test. "This is what it feels like," and he did a little stroke. Burned a little. Like carving on your skin with a razor. Superficial, not deep. Yeah, I could handle that. So he started. I think the worst of it was when he stopped and started again. It was a bit jarring. Keep the needle on the skin and there's a rythm you adjust to. He had his own rythm going with the country music he had blaring, which come to think of it was probably worse than the cramping for me. Not that it was unbearable, but I had the urge to laugh and a fear welled in me that uncontrolable laughter was a bad thing while scarring the skin with jet black ink. But what else is there to do but laugh with lyrics like "I overdosed in Denver, and I couldn't remember her name."
He also had a rather large collections of skulls and skelletons about his little office. Along with one of those jars claiming to be filled with the ashes of the last nasty customer. It was incredibly kitsch and I thought, Jesus, this is the Cracker Barrel of tattoo parlors! There was also a copy of Akira stitting on his desk and I wondered if the tape was there for those customers getting long detailed work. I'm not sure I'd want to watch Anime while getting a tattoo. Though I suppose if one is looking to achieve an altered state of consciousness without alcohol or drugs, mixing anime and tattooing might get you there.
In the end, I had a beautiful black, stylized swan permanently etched on my leg with the Japanese character for "love" scripted below the beak. I was aesthetically pleased by it.
Chad bandaged it up, told me I was no longer a tattoo virgin, and we were done.
I'd have to say, I would definitely do this again. The pain is marginal. If you can survive rug burn, you can survive this. I suppose in some way it's a right of passage. Not necessarily because of the pain involved, but for getting over the fear of pain.
